Show Off: Part Two

“Well boys?” asked Bradley to his beefy friends. “We got ourselves a real fucking fat boy here. What are we gonna do with all this fucking blubber, dudes?”

One of the jocks – a muscular blond boy whose biceps were as big as most guys’ legs – was rubbing his big cock through the ribbed cotton of his jock. “Dude – we gotta get this fat pig in the shower and clean him up!” The other boys chorused their agreement.

“You bet. We’ll make this piggy nice and clean, won’t we – get that round ball of blubber shining like the biggest fucking prize hog in the County Fair, huh? Then what? Come on guys, what are we gonna do with this fat fuck? Mikey, what do you think?”

Mikey was the slightest of the boys – a pretty, young brunette with long, lean limbs and a coltish air. He was so excited looking at my belly – I don’t think he’d taken his eyes off it since I’d stripped off my shirt. The flared head of his thick, rock-hard cock was poking up above the waistband of his skin-tight Ginch Gonch underwear, which – I smiled to notice – were patterned with tiny cupcakes. Mmm, I thought to myself, I’m getting hungry! Mikey’s hungry eyes were greedily devouring every inch of my grossly obese body; he had to collect his thoughts before speaking.

“Coach has got a load of baby oil in his office, man. I say we grease him up like the fat fucking pig he is!”

The boys whooped and hollered. Bradley looked as though he was going to faint just imagining it, and he spoke louder than I guessed he wanted to: “Hell yeah,” he shouted, “and I’m gonna be the one to slather this fucking mountain of blubber, dudes.” With that he wrapped his muscular arms as far as he could go around the never-ending circumference of my flabby paunch. Bunching up armfuls of blubbery fat he shook my gargantuan gut, making my two heavy tits slap up and down as they jiggled and bounced off my belly. He sighed with pleasure: “Awesome!”

“Sho-wer! Sho-wer!” the boys were chanting as Mikey and Tyrone started up all six of the showerheads in the communal area. Tyrone was the school’s champion bodybuilder – but at 6’2” of chiselled black muscle he was surprisingly gentle as he took me by the pudgy hand and led me into the centre. His brilliant white underwear was soaked through, revealing an almost indescribably big dick nestled in the damp cotton. You could have knocked me down with a feather when he whispered in my ear in his deep, husky baritone: “Come on baby, give us a show. You’re making me so damn hard.” As a parting gesture he reached up a shovel-sized hand and playfully tweaked one of my huge, bulbous nipples.

With my audience of hot, pumped muscleboys – all in various stages of undress and arousal – it felt good to cool off under the streams of water cascading over my tits and swollen belly. The boys grew quieter as the raucous laughter and insults slowly ceased; everyone was transfixed by my size. You could tell they had never seen someone as fat as me and all eyes were watching me run my hands over the rolls and rolls of gross flab that ran like an avalanche from my torso. It took two hands to lift each one of my vast breasts; each one topped by a saucer-sized nipple that seemed to glow under the sheen of soapy water. Lathering my big belly all over took about ten minutes – there was so much flabby acreage to cover – but my roaming hands caressed each bulging roll and deep crevasse. I looked up to see Bradley sweating profusely – his tiny red Speedo down around his ankles and his big cock standing proud from its nest of blond pubes. His voice was shaking as he gave his next command: “Towel him off boys.”

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